


i know my kingdom awaits and they've forgiven my mistakes

by bleep0bleep



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Episode: s05e07 Strange Frequencies, M/M, Past Braeden/Derek Hale, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Pre-Slash, Reunions, Season/Series 05, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleep0bleep/pseuds/bleep0bleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It’s now, watching the fading rays of the afternoon sun on the longest day of the summer, that it becomes more and more apparent that Stiles needs a car. </i> Stiles gets a text message from an unexpected someone. And a gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know my kingdom awaits and they've forgiven my mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> For [condemnedtorocknroll](http://tmblr.co/maZFdroAgL077ffT5c_Izbg)‘s [prompt](http://condemnedtorocknroll.tumblr.com/post/126190642988):
> 
> _no actually, don’t give me roscoe back up and running_  
>  _give me stiles receiving a text with an address and the words in the fuse box of the loft, going there and finding the keys to the camaro_
> 
> A huge thank you to [petals42](http://petals42.tumblr.com) for the amazing beta read at three thirty in the morning because I saw this prompt and needed to write it right away. 
> 
> Title is from that [song from that one summer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-ImCpNqbJw) that would not stop playing on the radio. 
> 
> ~
> 
> Spoilers up to 5x07. This is canon divergent from after the episode, assuming an alternate version of season five has come and gone.

The Dread Doctors are locked in stasis again, Nemeton tamped down and Beacon Hills seems to be moving back towards some semblance of normal again. Regression to the mean and all that. And now, Stiles considers, after lazy summer days not really packing for college, playing in the Dunbar’s pools with the pack, arguing with Kira about DC vs Marvel, Mason on his shoulders and Liam on Scott’s playing chicken, barbeques and barbeques, Lydia dragging him along to IKEA to pick out things to decorate her future dorm, Malia’s excited phone calls from her summer school, and long nights of peace and quiet. It’s now, watching the fading rays of the afternoon sun on the longest day of the summer, that it becomes more and more apparent that Stiles needs a car.

Or maybe it’s now that he finally accepts it.

Because he will need one. Soon. College starts in just a few weeks

UCSB is a few hours away, and Scott’s going to be at Davis a few hours in the opposite direction, and even though he offered to drive Stiles down and then go back up, there’s no way Stiles would make him go through all that mindless driving.

He misses Roscoe, like a deep ache, but a part of him knows that holding onto that Jeep was like trying to fix a memory, like trying to hold water in his hands, watching it slip away, duct taping pieces of the engine together that were breaking down with the inevitability of time. It had been his mother’s car, her favorite robin’s egg blue, the four wheel drive, the custom box top. Stiles held onto that piece of her like keeping the Jeep alive was keeping _her_ alive, but it hurt, every time the check engine light came on or the spluttering noise came back or it stalled in second gear again. And then, at times, the car just made him angry, remembering all the bad times towards the end, like every malfunction just like she was, towards the end, lashing out at everyone. Roscoe could stall at a light and suddenly Stiles would be ten years old again, confused and afraid that he didn’t understand his mother at all, how could he possibly understand her car?

And yet he loved the car, loved all of Roscoe’s shortcomings and dents and scratches. It worked, and it was his. His good thing.

The night Roscoe was wrecked, Stiles had come home in a daze, shaking as he washed the blood off his face. So many things happened in so short of time, and by the time his dad came home from the night shift Stiles still hadn’t fallen asleep, had been unable to, just sat in his living room, shellshocked.

Stiles remembers skimming over the details with his dad, but he’d been too out of it to say much more than Roscoe wasn’t— just wasn’t, anymore—

He burst into tears, the dam breaking finally, after everything they’ve been through this year, all the ridiculous things to make him cry, it was his car.

Stiles knew it was stupid, yet his dad knew that it wasn’t, and folded him into a hug.

“It was my good thing,” Stiles said numbly.

His dad understood what he meant. Stiles had been four or five when that started, whenever he got upset or overwhelmed, his mom would tell him to pick a good thing and focus on it. It was a mantra, a way to keep on track before he even knew about his ADHD.

“It’s just one,” his dad said. “Doesn’t change what you remember here.” He tapped Stiles’ head, and then over his heart. “And feel here.”

That had been in the middle of the year. Stiles has had months to deal with it, how he feels when he looks into his empty garage, or getting dropped off at school in his dad’s cruiser. Scott had offered to take him on the dirtbike, but apparently Liam already had his own helmet and Stiles couldn’t bear to take that away from him. So Stiles had dealt. Senior year, no car, it’s alright. He’s alive, his friends are alive, they got rid of the Dread Doctors, everything… is okay.

And yet.

There’s a text message from an unknown number chiming on Stiles’ phone, with a weird area code and some zeros and ones that makes him think it’s an international number.  

_in the fuse box of the loft_

Stiles types back, _who is this?_ suspiciously and sends it back, even though he has a feeling in his gut who it might be. All he gets is an error message, though.

It has to be Derek. Who else would talk about the loft? It must be something supernatural or danger related, like maybe the guy left a sentient plant living in his loft and realized almost a year later that without water, the plant would want to eat people. Or there’s something he needs to give to Scott?

 _Well, why didn’t he just text Scott,_ Stiles grumbles to himself. But he pulls on his shoes anyways, ready to figure out what Derek wants.

Stiles flicks through his phone to call Scott, and thumbs past Malia’s name, hoping she’s doing okay. They split amicably after the whole Dread Doctors thing. She’d been having trouble dealing with the trauma from the accident, and everything since then, and Stiles… well, he’d been dealing with his own issues. It was easier to support each other without the pressure of what they were, what they expected from the relationship, outside that relationship.

And then Malia’s dad had enrolled her in this hands-on-intense-holistic-new-age-y-one-on-one school to help catch her up, and Stiles guesses the classes and the intense teacher-to-student ratio really helped her. Malia re-discovered a fresh love of science. Geology, actually. Apparently slips and dips and slope angles are the only kind of math she likes, and she especially enjoys that she gets to smash things with hammers. She’s already started a summer course over at San Jose State, and is extremely excited about it. Stiles is happy for her.

He misses having someone, though, he doesn’t think he could conceivably date anyone. He’s learned the hard way that lying in a relationship doesn’t work so they’d have to know… everything. That cuts down the pool of potential applicants… to practically zero, since everyone else is either paired up or Stiles just...doesn’t see romantically.

It’s fine. Stiles can deal with a lack of cuddles. He can always get hugs from his dad or Scott or … well, it’s fine. He dealt with losing Roscoe, he’s single, he’s got this.

Derek’s apartment building is clean and well maintained. There’s happy laughter of children rushing down the halls, and Stiles is… well, relatively surprised. He knows from Scott that Derek bought the building… and was renting it out, apparently? And he must have hired someone to manage it, too. Interesting.

The elevator doesn’t even squeak anymore, and there aren’t any holes in the walls, Stiles notes. He’s weirdly proud of Derek for somehow accomplishing all this when he isn’t even here.

The thought sinks heavily down on him. They sure could have used his help a lot this year, Stiles thinks with a sudden rush of anger. And Derek just left– without saying goodbye, without telling anyone where or why—

That probably hurts the most. Stiles knows they weren’t friends, really, but they… they had been getting there. Or maybe. Well, the summer before the Alpha Pack arrived, Stiles had thought they could have had something. It had been fun, hanging out, researching together, and sometimes Derek would catch his eye and Stiles would raise his eyebrows in challenge and Derek would do that half-eye crinkle thing that meant he was laughing, because Stiles is hilarious. It was like they had a language of their own, and Stiles– well, Stiles didn’t understand it then, but Stiles now, Stiles who knows he’s bisexual, knows that it was attraction, that it has been a crush that never quite went away, and maybe even developed into some kind of feeling as the year went on, and they kept saving each other’s asses.

Except Derek left, and Stiles never got to say anything, so whatever.

He was seeing someone else, anyways.

The fuse box is pretty easy to find. The loft is less empty than Stiles thought it would be. The furniture is still intact, if under a heavy layer of dust. Like Derek had thought he would come back, but then changed his mind somewhere on his travels.

Stiles pries the thing open, wondering what he’s looking for.

There’s a single car key and an unlock/lock button on a plain key ring sitting at the bottom of the box.

What the hell?

Stiles picks it up and clicks the unlock button hesitantly. Somewhere in the parking lot below, he can hear a distinct _beep beep_ in response. Curiosity driving him more than anything else, he leaves the loft for the lot, locating the source.

A covered car sits in a corner, covered in cobwebs and dirt. Stiles clicks the button again, and the car beeps in response.

He grabs the canvas cover, unwraps it, and is rather stunned, because Derek hadn’t gotten rid of the muscle car when he got his family-friendly Toyota.

The Camaro stands there, looking beautiful despite the grime and the unuse. Stiles grips the keys in his palm until they leave a groove in his hand. This doesn’t make sense at all. Unless Derek planned to stay away from Beacon Hills even longer, and this is… he’s asking Stiles to like, check his car for him. Run the engine a little, keep it going.

Stiles runs through all the possibilities in his head and smirks. Well, Derek did text Stiles where the key was, and either lost his phone or deactivated it or something right after, so Derek has to be prepared for the consequences.

Stiles opens the car door and slides the key into the engine, feeling a thrilling satisfaction when the car purrs to life. He grins. He can pick up his bike later.

 

* * *

 

Okay, so maybe Stiles just meant to drive the Camaro round the block, but then he noticed it was low on gas, so he filled it up, and then he thought about it and decided to get an oil change, and then it’s a shame the beautiful car was all dirty, so he drove the Camaro back to his house and washed it. And then waxed it. He knows it’s not really his car, but it feels good to be productive.

He goes to sleep that night feeling satisfied.

Morning is slow; Stiles is just plodding downstairs to see his dad come in from the night shift at the station.

“Stiles,” the Sheriff says in a warning tone.

Stiles freezes. Oh no, did he find out Stiles threw out his stash of Twinkies?

“So I notice a certain car was parked outside this morning, and Mrs. Sylvester next door kindly informed me that it was here. All night.”

“Dad—”

Before Stiles can launch into the Derek-left-me-his-key-and-I’m-taking-care-of-his-car story, his dad just holds up a hand and Stiles takes his cue to fall silent.

“Now, I know you’re eighteen, and that your personal life is your business, and we’ve already had a talk about being safe, but while you’re still living under my roof, it’s also my business.”

“Uh—”

“That means Derek Hale is invited for dinner tonight.” John crosses his arms and gives Stiles a stern look.

“But–” Stiles’ mind is whirling.

The doorbell rings, which is lucky, because Stiles was trying to figure out how his dad went from the Camaro in the driveway to Stiles dating  and possibly having sex with someone way out of his league. And now he’s thinking about sex, and sex with Derek, which the very idea of is rather mindblowing…

Right, the doorbell rang.

His dad flicks the curtain back and sighs, exasperated. “Stiles, did you make your boyfriend seriously jump out the window when I got home? He must have more sense than you, because he came back to greet me properly.”

The door swings open and Derek is standing there, an extremely strange look on his face. “Uh. Hi, Sheriff Stilinski. Stiles. Um.”

Stiles’ face turns red, wondering how much of the conversation Derek’s heard. He’s frozen where he stands, feeling how strange the moment is, how long it’s been that he’s seen Derek, and how much the same Derek looks, the slightly lost look in his eyes, the faintest glimmer of a smile on his lips. He looks different too, broader somehow, standing more confidently, a deeper tan on his skin.

John turns to look at Stiles, and then back to Derek, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on in, son. When did you get back into town?”

“About twenty minutes ago, actually,” Derek says. He looks back at Stiles. “I had a taxi drop me off here from the train station. I hope it’s not an inconvenience.”

John gives him a puzzled look.

“Ah! Yes. Um, I was about to tell you, Dad, Derek texted me yesterday and asked me to take care of his car, so that’s why it was here, that’s all!” Stiles babbles. “And that’s why Derek’s here, to pick it up. Not for any other reason. Of what you were thinking.”

“Uh huh,” John says, not convinced.

“I actually am not here to pick the car up,” Derek says, looking at his feet. “I, um, I wanted to give the car to Stiles.”

“What?” Stiles and his dad say in unison, and then look at each other, and then back at Derek.

“Let me get this right,” John says. “You… are not dating my son. And you’re just giving him a sports car for no reason?”

Derek frowns. “Not for no reason. I, um, I heard that his Jeep was compromised, and he didn’t have a car to use. I have a car I’m not using. It makes sense.”

“Wait, how did you hear? I thought you were in like, Bolivia or something? That’s the last place I heard from Braeden.” Stiles tries to remember; he’s texted with the mercenary a lot this past year, and for some reason he just… assumed Derek was with her. But she hadn’t mentioned him since the beginning.

“Oh. Yeah, we went separate ways in Peru. She had a job to do, I wanted to stay with Cora,” Derek says, rubbing the back of his neck. “And it wasn’t like I didn’t check the news in your area, I saw a report on the accident and recognized the Jeep, so…” Derek looks nervous, admitting this. “I talked to Scott, and he told me you were okay, which… I know I could have called you but it didn’t seem…”

“So you’re not…” Stiles trails off, wondering how to ask, if it even is his place to ask.

“Aw, hell. I’m gonna...  I’m gonna go get some coffee with Melissa. You two figure this out.” John gets up, still in his Sheriff’s uniform and walks up to the door. “Be safe,” he says pointedly at Stiles.

Stiles can feel the blush all the way to his ears. “I, ah… he doesn’t mean…”

“I know what he means,” Derek says.

There’s an awkward silence. It seems unreal, that Derek is here in his house, after all this time.

Derek looks down, looks up at Stiles, and then looks down again.

“Uh...how’ve you been?” Stiles has no idea what else to say.

“Good. It’s…. it’s good to be back.” Derek smiles at him this time, and it comes easier to his face than Stiles has ever seen; like the year he’s spent apart has allowed him to be okay with smiling again.

“You’re really giving me the Camaro? I mean, how are you gonna pull off your leather-jacket-wearing-too-hot-for-everyone vibe without it?”

Stiles almost regrets it, because his mouth often runs faster than his brain, but then Derek laughs, and he doesn’t regret it at all.

“I’ll manage,” Derek says, amused. “I don’t really wear the leather anymore, really.” He looks down at himself. Derek’s in a soft looking blue v-necked t-shirt. He looks positively cuddly. His hair looks softer, too.

“Shame. It was a good look.” Stiles bites his lip, wondering when Derek is gonna shut down this whole thread of conversation that’s just shy of flirting.

Instead, Stiles sees color start in Derek’s cheeks. Could he be…?

“Um. Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” Derek says.

“Do you want some coffee or something? I was gonna make breakfast, too, if you’re down for that. And you can tell me all about your travels or whatever.” Stiles walks to the kitchen, starts up a pot of coffee.

“I’d like that,” Derek says, following him and leaning against the counter.

“And then…?” Stiles wants to know if this is just another stop, but Derek had said it’s good to be back earlier, and he needs to know for sure. He doesn’t know if he can take Derek leaving town again. But if he does, at least this time he can say goodbye.

“Maybe you can drive me to my car? The Toyota’s in a storage space in Beacon Heights.”

“But you’re staying? In Beacon Hills?” Stiles swallows back a nervous gulp.

“I’m staying,” Derek says, voice low and sincere. “I p—” he takes a deep breath, cutting himself off.

They look at each other for a long moment. The word hangs in the air, unsaid.

Stiles meets Derek’s eyes and knows there’s much more that’s been left hanging between them, years of almosts and maybes and could have beens. And maybe this could have gone differently before, or maybe they would always end up here, but Stiles knows he would have taken every possibility, every way he could have it, and he’s just glad to have this now.

“Thank you,” Stiles says.

“Yeah, I hope you like driving the car.”

“No, not for the Camaro.” Stiles steps forward and pulls Derek into a hug. It’s awkward at first, but then Derek’s arms wrap around him and Stiles can hear him exhale in relief. Derek holds Stiles close like he hasn’t hugged anyone for a long, long time.

“Welcome home, Derek,” Stiles whispers.

It’s a start.

**Author's Note:**

> Have you seen [ Tyler Hoechlin in this blue v-neck and fluffy hair? ](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/post/126330777870)
> 
> ~
> 
> Thank you for reading! You can find me on tumblr [here.](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com)


End file.
